Born Barefoot


IMG_20130615_110253_127

 

I was born barefoot

And learned to walk on rocks,

And hot pavement,

Stubbed my toes a lot,

And packed them with red soil

To heal in soft earth.

Tough Samoan feet

That felt hot in shoes

And didn’t fit the narrow, prissy,

Slender girl look.

“Wide!”

I said with pride,

“With rubber tips” that could

Scuffle and kick

Like the best of boys,

My feet took a beating.

But in summer,

They found the shapes of trees

With toes that gripped

The coconut, papaya, mango, guava trunks,

I was the mastermind of gathering fruit

With bulging shirt in teeth

Climbing over fences,

Pedaling bikes,

A solid, fast get-away.

 

I was told,

“Stay outside, your feet are dirty”

And I did.

Who wants lacy white socks that itch,

Or ugly pointed shoes that pinch?

I was born barefoot,

And was proud of it.

March 28, 2015

3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Noora
    Mar 28, 2015 @ 01:46:15

    Reply

  2. The Barefoot Jogger
    Mar 30, 2015 @ 17:18:50

    Good stuff

    Reply

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Poetry

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© Karen K.L.Espaniola and hinarising.com. 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Karen K.L. Espaniola and hinarising.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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